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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26829244">The Weaver of Dreams</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatthema/pseuds/Anatthema'>Anatthema</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Original work - Freeform, original writing - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:20:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>996</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26829244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatthema/pseuds/Anatthema</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Created for Internet Remix's Creative club</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Weaver of Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/696229">Harvey</a> by The Electric Swing Circus.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The woman tread the barren streets. The sun had dipped beyond the horizon, leaving eerie shadows to creep their way onto the buildings and roads she walked. The lamps had begun to flicker on, illuminating the now dark streets with magical light. </p><p>She thought about her simple problems in the way simple mortals know how. Irrelevant drivel about problems only the most mundane of mortals would care about.</p><p>As she walked, thoughts bubbling up in her mind, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure beneath one of the street lamps.  She wasn’t entirely sure if it was real. What stared at her was a tall, void-white wolf man with a top hat and cane. He smiled at her with his toothy grin, beckoning her closer with a gesture. She couldn’t explain why, but she was intrigued. </p><p>She paced forward, cautious yet interested. The beast had an allure of mystery. Clearly this was not an ordinary Beastoid or any number of mundane races. He was something special. And she wanted to understand. As she approached, he smiled; a cold and sharp expression with all the warmth of a bitter winter’s night. </p><p>“Welcome, welcome, my mortal friend. What brings you here on this fine evening?” the beast inquired.</p><p>“I saw you standing here, looking at me. I wasn’t even sure if you were a figment of my imagination.”</p><p>“Well, I can at least guarantee I am in fact, as real as everything else around you,” he chuckled. </p><p>“Quit being ominous. Who are you?” </p><p>“I am whatever you make of me, my dear speck of dust on the wind of mortality. Tell me, what form do I take for you?” he asked, his smile unwaveringly cold.</p><p>“You…” the woman paused to think.  “You look like a white wolf, if that’s what you mean.”</p><p>Suddenly, his smile shifted, if only for a moment. His eyes widened and his calculated demeanor dropped.</p><p>“You see me for what I am?” the beast questioned. ”You look for nothing but knowledge amongst many living minds who beg for me to fix problems even I am not capable of fixing? It is quite strange how mortals seek higher beings to fix problems no one but themselves can solve.” </p><p>“What are you? A god? Demigod? Something else?” the woman growled.</p><p>“Gods are chained to routine, prisoners of their own domain. Demigods bear the price of mortal emotion. I am bound by neither, I am uncaged by responsibility, the epitome of the immortal image.”</p><p>“Cut the bullshit. What is your name? Or are you some sort of fae trickster who would rather die than reveal a small bit of trivia?”</p><p>“My, My. Big words for a small mind. And no, I only converse with utmost honesty. I am Harvey. The weaver of dreams, the stopper of clocks, the unpicker of seams.” The figure gave a small curtsy, and gestured to the desolate surroundings.</p><p>The woman turned around. What few people dotted the streets at this hour were mere statues. No flicker of lights, no wind. A photograph, frozen in the moment.</p><p>The woman turned back to look at the beast she now knew as Harvey. He took his cane, golden and engraved with eye-shaped markings, and gave the ground several taps. Suddenly, his form shifted, a raven, a cat, a horse, all the same pale white he appeared as a wolf. </p><p>“You’re a shapeshifter,” she stated.</p><p>“Most do not see me in my true form. The mortal mind distracts from what I am and focuses on what I could be. Deep desires and emotions manifest, and so I reflect them back. They are shown what they want, not what they could be.” Harvey gave another small laugh. “But you. You don’t have that. You’re interested in what I am, not what I could be. You will be interesting.” </p><p>“Please, tell me more,” the woman begged.</p><p>“In time, my dear dust speck. You wish to sail the starry seas and build grand fantasies, all to learn and understand me. You will. I can take you to worlds beyond your reach. I will do what you wish, in time. But for now, I must go. The clock will start and our time will be put to a pause. I promise, we will meet again soon, and answers will be yours.” </p><p>The woman felt something bubbling within her, not rage or frustration, no. A scorching desire to know what had not been told. Her mind raced with the possibility of being swept away by an ancient immortal being, taken to the stars to dance and to learn. But she hungered to know above all else. She wanted to learn, to study, and to most of all to understand. But Harvey would not tell her yet. She furiously wished he could. But she knew her chances to know would be jeopardized if she pressed further. She took a breath, and sighed, </p><p>“I can’t lie. It pains me more than anything to let you go when I could get more out of you right now. But thank you. Please, soon, take me away. Show me, let me know, anything you can do at all. But for now, I suppose we’ll meet again later,” the woman said with a sad smile. </p><p>“Good, good. Thank you for your cooperation. I promise I will not disappoint, but for now,” Harvey took out a stopwatch, and fiddled with the knob as the world began to move again, “I leave you back to your mortal life. I will see you soon, my dear friend.”</p><p>And just like that, her ghost disappeared into the night, a phantom, unknown to any but her. He was her mystery. She was going to figure him out. She continued down the desolate streets, her mind no longer plagued with the mundane. Instead, she thought of him. She knew she was going to understand, she would have to. She was ready, and she wasn’t afraid of what may come.</p>
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